“Monsieur Androvsky!” she called.
He started, looked across the sand, and stepped into the garden with a sort of reluctant caution that pained her, she scarcely knew why. She got up and went towards him, and they met full in the sunshine.
“I came to be your cicerone.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
There was the click of wood striking against wood as Smain closed the gate. Androvsky turned quickly and looked behind him. His demeanour was that of a man whose nerves were tormenting him. Domini began to dread telling him of the presence of the priest, and, characteristically, did without hesitation what she feared to do.
“This is the way,” she said.
Then, as they turned into the shadow of the trees and began to walk between the rills of water, she added abruptly:
“Father Roubier is here already, so our party is complete.”
Androvsky stood still.
“Father Roubier! You did not tell me he was coming.”